


we're not friends, nor have we ever been

by ImNotStubborn



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotStubborn/pseuds/ImNotStubborn
Summary: Popular flirt Serena McKinnie and grumpy loner Berenice Wolfe have to spend their first twenty-four hours shift in the emergency room together.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 43
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think 24 hours shifts aren't actually a thing anymore in the UK (lucky you if that's true), but this prompt was too tempting to resist.
> 
> It wasn't my intention when I started writing it, but I now realize it could totally be set a few months before “and that's why friends should sleep in other beds,” hence the title from the same song (also, I'm lazy with titles.)
> 
> 24 hours doesn't mean 24 chapters, but there's more to come if you guys are interested!

**08:00**

Serena McKinnie sighs as she gets clean scrubs from the laundry room, and heads for the lift.

Having to work for twenty four hours straight on a Sunday is a drag in itself because you don't get to enjoy your week end that much if at all, and Serena certainly makes it a rule to enjoy hers.

It's even more of a drag when one wants to be a surgeon and nothing else, and those ER shifts are specifically designed to insure that as long as they're F1s, even surgery program participants need to work on their strictly _medical_ skills from time to time. Which means not only will she have to deal with boring runny noses and superficial suturing, she will also be obligated to hand all potentially fascinating trauma cases over to her colleagues on call in the surgery wards.

At least it's only twenty-four hours, she thinks to herself, and it can't get worse than it already is.

She regrets that thought as soon as she opens the door to the locker room, and finds herself face to face with an already scrubbed up Berenice Wolfe.

“Oh, hello,” the blonde says, stopping midway through closing her padlock, a water bottle in hand.

She narrows her eyes at Serena, obviously surprised to see her here.

“Hello,” Serena politely replies.

She ignores the questioning look and heads over to her own locker quickly, cursing in her head all the while, and trying to avoid staring for too long at the other doctor.

It's not that she has anything against Dr Wolfe per say. in fact, before today they've never actually talked to each other that she can recall.

But she's in the General Surgery ward with Serena's best friend, and although Ric can be hard to get along with because of his own arrogance and stubbornness, he isn't the only one of their fellow F1s who's ever complained about this particular surgeon's attitude on the job. She's said to be cold and cunning, the shark type who don't mind stomping over their colleagues to make themselves look good in front of their superiors. She's also broken one of the medical community's biggest taboos by flaunting her own accepted hero complex with her famous intentions to join the RAMC in a few years, and although Serena doesn't particularly mind the ambition, she's had too much disdain for authority her entire life to admire the military.

It doesn't help that she is as infuriatingly pretty as Serena remembered from passing her by in the corridors on occasion, she thinks bitterly, and is immediately surprised by the negative emotion. Yes, beauty is something Serena usually notices about women too, and although she's more than simply jealous of it, she still usually gets over it in no time and she certainly doesn't hold it against them.

“I thought Griffin was on today?” she hears behind her just as she's taking off her coat.

Serena might have been pissed herself when she realised who she has to spend her longest shift yet with, but it doesn't stop her from being irrationally offended that the feeling appears to be mutual.

“He was,” she still answers as nicely as she can, turning around. “He's asked me to switch, said he had some family matters to arrange this week end,” she explains, and realises that might have been a load of bullshit.

Apparently, so does Dr Wolfe, who is now casually leaning against the tile wall, raising her eyebrows and giving her a very sceptical look with a hint of a smirk on her thin lips. Serena has half a mind to call her out on it, was she not aware that she probably did in fact get tricked by her own friend –and a little distracted by the way the blonde's crossed arms accentuate the muscles of her forearms.

Eventually, Berenice hums in doubtful agreement, shrugs and leaves the room.

As soon as she does, Serena sends a less than diplomatic text to Ric indicating just how many drinks he owes her for this. She doesn't get the usual quick answer and realises the traitor is probably still asleep, so she turns the admittedly already high number into an infinite debt and humphs in frustration.

Then she soldiers on, changes into ill-coloured ER scrubs and heads out.

When she arrives in the emergency room a mere ten minutes later, her colleague for the day seems to have already seen a patient and is sending them off to another ward while writing something down in their file. Serena feels lost and useless for a second, something she hasn't been familiar with since her very first days in a hospital as a student.

“Serena McKinnie, right?” she hears, and turns to find the consultant on call.

“Mr Self,” she greets with a smile, all the while thinking she really did win the worst-colleagues-possible lottery for the day.

“I trust you can catch up with your fellow F1 over there? We've got quite a few patients to handle who've arrived right in the middle of the turnover, and as you can see, Dr Wolfe is already hard at work.”

Serena grits her teeth and stops her over competitive nature from reacting to the obvious provocation –she's pretty sure she didn't imagine the emphasis on her colleague's name there– instead going for the sweet, diplomatic tone she's been quick to learn and use, especially with male egos on legs like this specimen.

“Of course. But since she seems to have started working on the new arrivals, shouldn't I go and get yesterday's team's report instead, so I can sign out on the overflow from last night?”

She hates even having to ask, and the fact that Berenice has gone on with new patients to leave her dealing with the night's leftovers, famously the most ungracious task in the ER, doesn't win Berenice any points in her heart. But she decides she has to make a good impression on this buffoon of a consultant anyway, and so she will be a team player for now –and a part of her suggests she'll have plenty of time to discuss this unfair repartition of their work with her colleague later on.

“Oh there's no need for that, she arrived an hour early and got all their notes already. If it's settled then, there you go,” Mr Self concludes in a firm tone, handing her a file.

Serena's smile freezes on her face as she automatically takes the papers and looks over at Miss F1 of the year across the room, who's apparently already found another patient to handle.

Oh, this is going to be a long shift indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**11:00**

Serena walks to the nurse station to write down a prescription, stealing a glance at the wall clock and cursing under breath that it's only been this little amount of time since her most horrendous day at work yet has started.

“You okay there, Serena?”

Nurse Fletcher, her favourite staff member outside of her closest circle of friends, smiles at her encouragingly.

“I am, thanks. Adjusting to this… department, is all,” she half-lies, for once not daring to say what she really has on her mind.

But Fletcher, who has seen a few generations of F1 come through these doors already, is decidedly not impressed.

“Let me guess, your sweet and agreeable company for the day isn't helping, is she?”

Serena looks around nervously, and glares at him when he chuckles at her doing so.

“I don't like to speak ill of anyone, Fletch, you know that,” she says in her most no-nonsense voice.

But the nurse only grins and gets closer, shaking his head.

“I do, and it's very noble of you in a place like this. But Serena, you also look like you're about to explode, and it's a bit too early in your shift for that, don't you think? I'm a good ear if you need to vent, and I wouldn't use anything you tell me against you.”

She sighs, knowing he's right and she does need an outlet before the frustration gets the best of her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To your over-focused colleague, probably not. But I've worked enough shifts with you to know you've never looked this tensed on the job, and I don't think the only culprit is the lack of surgery activity around.”

“Alright, look," she eventually gives in, lowering her voice to make sure no one overhears. "I've been _trying_ to stay calm and take care of my own patients and just, avoid treading on her toes since we obviously won't get along, right?”

“Right.”

“But you see, _she_ doesn't even bother to follow that basic rule! She appears out of nowhere like she's already been trained spying techniques, and she always seems to have an opinion and a different diagnostic than my own to offer, even though I don't ask her for any of it!”

Fletcher chuckles, patting her shoulder in comfort.

“Bit of a know-all, this one, huh?”

“You could definitely say so. And the worst part is, I'm drowning in following up all my patients, while she finds time to butt in my business and still handle her more-than-half of the work like she's done this all her life. I don't know how many ER shifts she's worked before, Fletch, but–“

“Actually from what I've heard, this is her first rodeo down here too.”

That gives Serena pause, and she stares at him, blinking in disbelief for a while.

“You have got to be joking.”

“I promise I'm not. But you know, it's not that uncommon for some of you youngsters to overdo it like she is. Granted, she's brilliant at it for now –don't give me that look, you've just admitted it yourself– but she's also probably as desperate as you are to prove herself. It's not a restful environment we work into, and no matter how well they're hiding their struggles, no one's job in here is ever easy.”

He shrugs as if embarrassed to have sided with someone he knows Serena doesn't get along with, but there's a gentleness and care in his eyes that show how deeply he believes his own words.

“All I'm saying is, think about it. Dr Wolfe's a pain, obviously, but she's not the devil.”

He takes off after she hums in agreement, and she mulls it over as she gets back to the medical office. Whatever point he may or may not have here, she can't sulk any longer, as she knows being unprofessionally moody would only make things worse in such a setting. She takes a deep breath and reflexively knocks on the ajar door before she goes to pick a new case from the never ending pile of awaiting patients, when she notices Dr Wolfe is sitting and staring blankly ahead.

As determined as she is to ignore her coworker and focus on the first file she grabbed, gathering general information and already half-diagnosing another likely common stomach flu while automatically listing all the emergencies she'll have to rule out during examination, she still hesitates to get on with it. After all, she's only been working with her since this morning, but being inactive –and even simply sitting down– doesn't really strike Serena as being a part of Berenice Wolfe's normal behaviour. Besides, Nurse Fletcher's words are too fresh on her mind, and there is a silly part of her that can't help but feel an impulse of camaraderie, knowing they're both newcomers stuck in any surgeon's hell together.

Hoping she won't regret it, Serena clears her throat and waits for her to look up.

“Is something the matter?” she asks, trying for a detached tone.

Berenice sighs, and her eyes only flicker to Serena's for a quick second before she averts her gaze again.

“I lost a patient,” she grumbles, an almost pout on her lips, not looking the least bit anguished about it.

Serena feels her own eyes widen in shock, and she can't help the loud exclamation that escapes her.

“We had a code?! Who? When? How did I not hear–”

“No, lost him as in, lost track of him,” she corrects, at least reassuring Serena that she doesn't think of a patient _dying_ on her watch as more of an inconvenience than a tragedy. “I sent him to Radiology two hours ago to get a CT before stitching him up, considering the cut was so deep I could actually see his frontal bone through it. I've just called to ask what's taking them so long.”

Serena arches an eyebrow, thinking back to the patient she only caught a quick glimpse of earlier, and to how overly busy Berenice had already been then.

“And?”

Dr Wolfe looks up at her, holding her gaze this time, the exasperation on her face soon leaving way for an embarrassed blush.

“And I got yelled at that it tends to take a while, when the patient never even makes it to their ward.”

“Oh,” is all Serena can say, and there's a brief moment of silence.

“You can go ahead and laugh,” Berenice says with a raised eyebrow of her own, clearly not fooled by the front Serena's trying to put up.

And yes, of course Serena wants to laugh.

But she doesn't want to mock her like Berenice is clearly expecting her to.

She wants to laugh _with_ her, at the irony in contrast between how eager to work she was before, and how defeated she now looks over something that's probably not that serious –wandering patients, either demented ones or those who are still drunk from their Saturday night partying, aren't that rare after all. And she only feels like making light of this because her own favourite methods of coping with those familiar anxiety-inducing mishaps include wine drinking, which they can't very well do right now, and laughing off your own quirkiness with people who know exactly what you're going through.

She also wants to scream in frustration at the situation then, at the fact that they're not nearly close enough for her to be able to reassure Berenice, not without offending her with laughter or creeping her out by oversharing her own failure stories.

If she's put off by how much she wishes their rapport was different when she can barely stand the woman, she decides it's all due to sympathy for someone who's going through the same maddeningly frightening change from being a supervised student to officially having people's lives in your hands. And because she doesn't want to think it has anything to do with the odd energy she feels any time she's close to this –infuriatingly brilliant, and annoyingly beautiful– near stranger, she decides she can also blame it on the lack of wine in her system this week end, and spares a not-too friendly thought for Ric once more.

“Well… didn't you get porters to get him from here to there? You could call them and ask what they've done with him,” she tries, figuring offering solutions will work far better with Wolfe than verbal cuddling.

“I did that,” Berenice says, looking finally ready to stop mopping around as she uncrosses her arms and lets a hand comb through her hair –Serena has to force her eyes away from the gorgeous strands and focus extra hard on her next words. “They came to collect him but he wasn't here when they arrived, and as the nurses were dealing with an agitated patient and I was busy releasing Mrs Thapfer who'd been here since last night, they waited but eventually left without finding me to tell me they had to go and get another patient all the way across the grounds.”

Were it anyone else –since she is pretty much close to every other F1 or F2 around here– Serena would have kicked their ass about how they might not have found themselves in this predicament, had they agreed to share the load of work instead of wanting to shine so bad they forgot to share information with their colleagues at the beginning of a predictably difficult shift. But she stops herself from saying anything unpleasant, taking pity on the tiredness she can see on Berenice's face and remembering rumours of a difficult personal life on top of her own most recent conversation with Fletcher.

Instead, she simply grabs and turns her chair around so she's not facing the desk any longer.

“Well come on then. Get up,” she says, her most playful smile on display.

Berenice looks up at her, confused.

“You've worked here long enough, you know the place. Go and get that loose patient, tiger!”

Her colleague only frowns –although she does extend her endless, tone legs like she's about to unconsciously take Serena's advice and stand– then points at the computers and files around them.

“Do you realise we have other patients coming in at a near impossible pace?”

And well, so much for sympathy and politeness, Serena thinks.

“Yes, Dr Wolfe, I do,” she replies sharply, trying really hard not to roll her eyes at the maddeningly patronizing tone –that at least distracts her from ogling the length of limbs she has become very acutely aware of. “Do _you_ realise you're not the only medical personal around here? I'm perfectly able to cope with minor traumas and no-GP-on-Sunday syndromes for the few minutes it will take such a talented person as yourself to find your escapee, thank you very much.”

She doesn't like her own acerbic tone, isn't used to using it with colleagues and hoped she never would have to. But they've only been here for a few hours and although she's heard Fletcher's arguments and knows first hand how much self confidence matters when you're a woman in such a masculine field as theirs, Serena can't see herself handling any more of this behaviour for the –lot of– remaining time they have to spend together today.

To her credit, Berenice Wolfe does look a little chastised, and for a second it almost seems like she's about to apologise. Then she thinks better of it and instead stands up swiftly, straightening her top and holding her head high, strict nearly military composure all regained.

“Fine. Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone,” she throws over her shoulder.

Serena has absolutely no idea if she meant it seriously or if that was an attempt at a joke on her part, and she decides she doesn't care.

Just like she doesn't care about the accentuation of sharp collarbones or the temporary dip in cleavage she got a sight of when her colleague readjusted her scrubs.

God, she _really_ has to get over the pretty thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**16:00**

Serena sits back after she hangs up with Haematology, relieved that she won't have to get back upstairs to check on a patient with a dangerously low amount of platelets that turned out to be a false result on a second sample, and congratulating herself for knowing just how to flirt with George up in the lab so she could get the results this quickly.

Checking the board and seeing no new waiting patients on it, she allows herself a short break and gets lost in thoughts that after all, emergency medicine isn't so bad, although she wouldn't give up surgery for it. She's letting herself think of ways to combine the two, when Berenice breaks her out of her daydream with a loud sigh.

“What a boring shift,” she says as she sits and stretches on a nearby chair, crossing her hands behind her head.

The movement causes her lowest row of abs to become visible when her tee shirt rides up just that little too much, and it's such a ridiculous display that if Serena didn't know any better she'd be wondering if this isn't a conscious effort on her part. 

She looks away and forces herself to reply to her words instead of thinking of whatever else she may be hiding under these scrubs.

“Really, Berenice? We've still got what, roughly sixteen hours to go, and you just went ahead and jinxed it with that statement?”

“Aww,” she replies sarcastically, bringing one of her hands down to pat Serena's.

Absurdly, time slows as she gets closer and closer.

So much so that Serena finds enough of it to think back to that party in Stepney, a couple months back, where she almost kissed another woman, and to realise it might not have simply been the alcohol after all. But when their fingers brush, the jolt of static electricity that her school years tell her has nothing to do with what she's feeling right now, and Berenice moving her hand away immediately at the pain, thankfully bring her out of the internal crisis that was looming.

“You believe in jinx,” Berenice continues to tease, “that is so cute, McKinnie. Disappointing and predictable, but cute.”

“Oi, you don't–“

But the retort she was about to let out dies in her throat when Guy Self's head pops into the room and he eyes them suspiciously.

“Are we really so short on patients that the both of you decided to relax at the same time? My, I might have to recommend only one F1 for these shifts, that would avoid having to pay two of you with so little work around.”

“Sorry, Mr Self,” Serena immediately replies, somehow ashamed even though she knows she didn't do anything wrong, “we were just–“

“There hasn't been a new admission in the past hour,” comes Berenice's calm, assured voice as she only half turns to face their boss, “and we've either discharged or reoriented all the patients we saw earlier, except for Mr Langley who's still waiting for a bed in Geriatrics –but the nurses are expecting a call from them any minute now.”

Serena looks over at her, half annoyed, half impressed that she's able to stay this collected in Guy Self's presence and not show the nerves Serena suspects, like all F1s, he must inspire in her.

“Is that so?” he says, and he looks as surprised by her aplomb as Serena feels. “Well, that is impressive. You two must be great friends to work so well as a team–“

Serena can only roll her eyes when Berenice interrupts him with a ridiculous snort of laughter at the –ludicrous indeed– supposition.

“Oh, you're serious,” the blonde realises at Self's raised brows.

_N__ow_ she looks a little embarrassed. Which Serena can't even gloat about, because pink cheeks somehow work bloody well on her face.

“… Or you're both competitive enough to have wanted to outdo each other, but in an efficient way for now,” he finishes with a smirk.

The smile Wolfe throws him at that is as falsely innocent as it is adorable, and Serena frowns at her own thought.

Because all right, fine, she is coming to terms with the fact that she apparently won't get over her admiration of her colleague's appearance any time soon, and she has to acknowledge that the warm and giddy feeling she's gotten every time they've argued about diagnoses so far has probably got more to it than simple professional exasperation mixed with reluctant appreciation of her sharp mind and tongue.

And thinking back, Serena has learned that in spite of her eagerness to rush patients out of the ER and be the best at her job, Berenice Wolfe also seems to care deeply about her patients, like when she held demented Mr Langley's hand for a solid fifteen minutes as he panicked and his next of kin hadn't reached the hospital yet. Besides, Serena is almost convinced there was a lot of truth to Fletch's interpretation before and she is just as afraid as anyone in their shoes to screw up, only she deals with that apprehension by bulldozing ahead and forgoing the existence of her own team mates in the process –and as unhealthy a coping mechanism as that is, it's not like they get a manual on how to handle the stress of their line of work.

Still, Berenice Wolfe is so blunt she's almost rude, she's a show-off who can't stop herself from putting her nose in Serena's cases just for kicks on top of her own workload -at least she's cooled it a bit on that front after this morning's incident- and although she's almost as pretty as she is bright, overall, she's a lot more annoying than she is anything close to adorable. So where the hell did that come from?

When Serena tunes back in again, she notices both other doctors looking at her expectantly, Berenice frowning in curiosity, Guy looking as condescendingly bored as ever.

“Sorry, what did I miss?”

“I was asking Dr Wolfe and yourself if you'd be interested, seeing as there's no need for you to wallow down there when there's no new patients at the moment, in coming up to the lab to test our brand new laparoscopy training devices.”

“Do you mean we really got the new Scopy-trainers? I thought that was a rumour!” Serena exclaims immediately.

Most thoughts of whatever she may or may not feel for her co F1 are temporarily forgotten, and her fingers tingle with eagerness at the prospect of something even remotely surgery-oriented to do.

“I don't know if I'm more surprised that two doctors as young as yourselves know about this device,” Guy Self says around a chuckle –the sound, unexpected from that specific superior, creeps Serena out a bit– “or relieved that the rumour mill in this place is somewhat medically oriented for a change. Follow me.”

When Berenice turns and smiles at her as they go, a genuine, excited child-like smile that lights up her entire face, the unexpected adjective imposes itself once more on Serena's mind. She chastises herself for it, and for the immediate quickening of her heartbeat –that she now definitely can't put down to professional enthusiasm alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos, and double thanks to those who have been commenting so far! 
> 
> Fyi, we're about halfway done :)


	4. Chapter 4

**17:00**

A mere hour later, “adorable” is proven definitely ill-fitting here. Under the many layers of rage and irritation Serena now feels for her colleague, increased each time she cheerily exclaims “done!” while Serena struggles with each step, she seriously wonders if she wasn't having some kind of a stroke earlier.

When Mr Self let them both give it a first go, she thought Wolfe's ease at the exercise was a fluke as she managed to do a pretty solid looking stitch on the synthetic organ-like substance in a relatively short amount of time –compared to Serena's own clear and simple failure at only keeping the needle in its laparoscopic holder. It had even earned Berenice a very rare Self compliment on her finger dexterity that, put together with the way her instruments had looked a bit shaky on the screen afterwards, the sudden redness on her cheeks and a couple of explicit rumours she'd tried not to pay attention to, had sent Serena's mind down a road it most definitely shouldn't have been while at work.

She'd somehow managed to focus again and attempted another stitch right after the consultant left them to it, and failed once more at handling the equipment properly. Berenice had chuckled then –which in hindsight, had probably been meant a lot less mocking than Serena perceived it to be– and the combination of professional and whatever other kind of frustration she was struggling with had become a little too much for her nerves.

“What, beginner's luck, you really think you can do better?” she'd taunted her.

Her tone had been a little more aggressive than it should have been, and Dr Woolfe's smile then had seemed positively carnivorous –and better explained the shark analogy people used when talking about her.

“I don't think I can. I _know_ I can.”

And as much as Serena hates to admit it, the last thirty minutes or so do not contradict that statement at all.

The last straw comes with Berenice's phone ringing and her daring to pick up and stick it in between her shoulder and cheek while she _still_ manages to do an outstanding job, and Serena has to take a break at the absurdity of the situation. She temporarily gives up, hoping a short break to cool down will help her focus more later, and breathes in and out slowly a few times, stretching sore fingers and attempting to tune out her annoying colleague.

“I'll be right there. Of course, Sir,” Serena eventually hears.

She holds it in until Berenice hangs up, mindful of who was probably on the other end of the line, and then can't stop the laughter from bursting out at the dead serious military-like tone she used. It's childish, and she doesn't like the snark in it when it comes out. But she's starting to realise she might as well laugh when faced with an unfairly gifted and multitasking competitor such as Berenice Wolfe, rather than try to beat her when she obviously cannot.

Berenice simply looks at her, waiting for the worst of it to pass, eyeing her oddly all the while.

“What, was that too army for you?” she finally asks in a clipped tone and with slightly narrowed eyes once Serena quiets down.

There's a hint of hurt under this hardness though, barely concealed even for someone who knows her as little as Serena does, and the hilarity evaporates in a second.

Because as maddening as it is just how perfect Berenice is at everythingshe does, Serena also got to witness her screwing up this morning, out of sheer willingness to do it all by herself. And it's starting to dawn on her, thinking back to the many unpleasant things she's heard about Dr Wolfe –more than once said when the blonde was within earshot– that even though she never seems to care about what's being said about her, Serena also never saw her with or heard of her having any friends. She suddenly reckons this extreme form of independencemight not have been much of a choice after all.

“It's okay, I don't mind,” Berenice says, and it sounds so forced even she looks unconvinced. “I'm getting out of here soon enough anyway.”

“Wait, I didn't mean any–”

But Serena's attempt to apologise comes a second too late, says the impassible mask that falls back onto her face.

“Your placement's off, that's why you're not getting this right,” Berenice then announces calmly, walking around her own station to get closer to Serena's.

“What?” Serena asks, as disturbed by the change in topic as she is by the assured way she moves up into her personal space.

“Your elbows are too high, you can't be comfortable like this, and so you can't move about properly. First rule of any successful invasive gesture?”

It takes Serena a little too long to answer as Berenice positions herself right behind her, her breath tickling her neck with every word.

“Oh, er… Installation is key?” she finally manages to get out, sounding a little less sure than she would have liked.

“Exactly. I had a nurse yell that at me so many times during my first day when I was barely trying to get IVs in, I don't think I'll ever forget it. May I?” she asks after lowering the adjustable work surface, as she goes to put her hands on Serena's shoulders.

Serena nods, although unnerved by the idea of this touch even through the layer of clothes she has on her back, not one to ever mind physical contact before.

“There, relax your shoulders,” she says as she rolls her fingers there, so much more gently than Serena expected that she has to stop herself from letting an embarrassing noise out, “let your arms fall a little –not too loose– and try again. Make the same movements you would for regular stitches, just with broader elbow amplitude, and more precise wrist rotations," she continues while her hands mimic her words and follow along Serena's arms. "Then all you'll have to focus on is adjusting your eyes and gestures to a flat screen, instead of the natural 3D you're used to during a laparotomy.”

She lets go of her then but leaves her hands to ghost over her movements, and although Serena is definitely not one hundred percent focused and is pretty sure her face is as red as a pair of Darwin scrubs right now, even with slightly trembling hands, she manages to put the needle the right way in and out of the human tissue-like fabric and only struggles a bit with tying the knot.

“Looks a little loose for an internal stitch,” Berenice comments, although Serena can hear the pride in her voice before she adds, “but that's a lot better already!”

“How did you know how to do that?” Serena asks, eyes glued to the screen, in awe of herself.

Berenice steps back then, standing to the side and putting some distance between them that has Serena almost forgetting about her own success in disappointment, and looks a strange mix of ashamed and proud as she explains.

“I guess it's only fair that you know. They received those a few weeks ago and wanted to wait until next month for us to train on them, but I… may have sneaked in for a preview once or twice. Unsupervised.”

Serena lets go of the clamp and puts a hand to her heart in half-faked shock when she's also relieved, deepw down, that there's such a rational explanation behind her colleague's amazing abilities.

“My, oh my! Had someone told me this morning that future RAMC member Dr Wolfe was a rebel in disguise all this time…”

“Takes one to know one,” she replies with a mischievous grin, tilting her head to the side and wiggling her eyebrows at Serena.

Serena who now has to make a conscious effort to swallow, because the end of the afternoon light is hitting Berenice's face in just the right way through the window and making it a lot too easy to hope that her suggestive look is about something else entirely.

She turns fully towards her colleague, deciding that even though there's a high chance Dr Wolfe is completely unaware of the effect she's having on her right now, Serena herself never minded a little conscious friendly flirting here and there. And if they have to be competitors in everything, she should at least try and see if she can undermine Berenice's all-confident attitude as much as she does her own, right?

So she smiles her most devastatingly playful smile, sliding almost indecently closer, and looks slightly upwards –damn Dr Wolfe and her extra centimetres.

“Well, either way,” she says lowly, “you've just made a big mistake…”

Serena would laugh at the deer in headlight look on Berenice's face right now and how easily it was to put it there. That is, if she hadn't also noticed the widening of her pupils and the quick glance she let fall down to her mouth, and wasn't getting way too worked up about this herself.

“How… how do you mean?” Berenice asks after a beat, still looking paralysed with wider eyes than Serena's ever seen.

“Sharing your secret with the competition, of course!” she exclaims then, choosing to break the tension and physically stepping back, giving them both a break.

She struggles to hide her smirk when Berenice has to clear her throat before she replies, and takes a mental note that no matter how dangerous flirting with her might get, she's definitely doing it again -if only for the oh so enjoyable sight that is a confused and flustered Berenice Wolfe.

“Well, as tempting as a stitching contest sounds now that I've given you all the good tricks,” she finally says, “I have to go. That phone call was, as you may have guessed, from our lovely boss for the day.”

The sarcastic remark is as unexpected as it is appreciated, especially when Dr Wolfe has such a teacher's pet reputation.

“What did he want? Do we have to get back?”

She certainly doesn't hope so, eager as she is to finally properly exercise herself to this technique, but they are on call after all.

“Just me, one of my patients is being admitted into Darwin when I thought they didn't have a bed for him until tomorrow morning, so I have to go and update his prescriptions.”

Serena nods as she gets back to her training, but she has to turn her head back towards her when the other woman doesn't move.

“I figure I'll go by the emergency room afterwards,” she starts again, sounding a little hesitant. ”Even if we haven't been paged yet, I'm sure there'll be a few non urgent patients to see and I assume you'd rather stay and train a little longer?”

“You mean, since you're so much better at this than I am?” Serena retorts, arching an eyebrow.

She means it as a joke but Berenice, although she smiles, sounds very serious as she replies.

“No, I mean because you're interested in becoming a surgeon here, where laparoscopy is the most used technique overall and I'm joining the RAMC, where chances are I'll see a lot less fancy state-of-the-art equipment out there. Besides, don't tell me you're not enjoying this break from the boring cases awaiting down there! See you later, McKinnie.”

Serena wants to thank her for the surprisingly altruistic opportunity, but she's gone before her mouth opens.


	5. Chapter 5

**20:30 **

“Come on,” Berenice says cheerily as she takes their plates out of the microwave and hands Serena her own share of indescribable hospital food, “we've officially been through half our shift now, and we're having such a slow evening we're eating dinner this early, together, and in no rush. You can't tell me you don't agree that this is the quietest shift ever!”

Serena's sigh is exaggeratedly loud as she sits down, glaring at the grinning blonde who takes place opposite her.

“I will not agree to anything. Your unjustified confidence is already guaranteeing us a hellish night, and I sure will not add to it.”

“I'd heard such terrible things about having to run the ER on our own,” she continues as if Serena hadn't said a word, in the same dreamily satisfied tone as before, “but this is really quite easy.”

Serena crosses her fingers and closes her eyes, shaking her head.

“What are you doing now, praying the patients away?” Berenice asks, chuckling.

“I'm saying goodbye to what little amount of sleep I could have gotten before you shooed it away with your careless words. And don't give me that condescending look! Don't they have superstitions in the army?”

Her co F1 shrugs, a thoughtful but defying smile on her thin lips.

“I don't know. But if they do, I don't intend to subscribe to them.”

“Here's the rebellious side again,” Serena comments with faked annoyance.

Faked, because it feels oddly good to be able to share a private joke with this specific doctor that nearly no one else knows anything about.

“And again, I say it takes one to know one. You must have a few rad stories of your own, McKinnie. Come on, I've shared my tempering with the local lab equipment secret… surely you can give me something in return?”

Her tongue darts out of her mouth right then to get to the gravy that had found its way there, and Serena has to take a deep breath to focus on the conversation again.

“Alright, it's not the wildest, but… I did get a lip ring when I was sixteen –mainly because I knew how much my Mum would hate it. I hid it successfully for about four months, until I forgot to take it off when I came home from a party late one Sunday morning. I didn't get to go to bed until after she was finished lecturing me, and I was grounded for as long as I'd lied. I guess I'm thankful in retrospect, because I studied so hard during those months it's probably the reason I eventually got accepted into my medical school program.”

Serena doesn't know if she's reading too much into the way Berenice's eyes seem suddenly glued to her lips considering she just brought them up herself after all, but for the length of the slightly awkward silence that follows, she finds herself hoping she isn't.

“Oh,” she eventually hears. “Well, I bet you never told her thatlastpart.”

“Of course not! Would never hear the end of it then. I bet your parents never had any idea what you got up to though, right? You don't seem like the type to get caught.”

Berenice chews on her food much more slowly then, even putting down her fork as she frowns down at the table, and Serena feels too guilty to eat as she waits for an explanation for this change in behaviour.

“They did catch me,” she says softy, sounding far away. “Once. And although I don't think there is anything wild about a kiss between teenagers… whoever it is you're kissing, I think their reaction was enough for everyone involved.”

After a short silence that Serena doesn't dare break with the many questions she wants to ask as Berenice obviously relives unpleasant memories, the blonde breathes in deeply and tucks her hair behind her ear in embarrassment.

“Sorry, that was… things haven't been easy at home for a while.”

Serena shakes her head at the unnecessary apology and has half a mind to comfort her with a friendly touch then, but Berenice is looking away and has retreated as far as she can on her chair, making the distance between them feel greater than it has since this morning.

“Is that why you're joining the army?” Serena asks instead, taking a chance that Dr Wolfe's addiction to adrenalin hasn't much to do with that incident.

Her bet pays off when Berenice's face and body instantly relax, and she finally looks back at her, the excitement in her eyes at that topic making them look even brighter than when they were on their way to the training lab.

“Good Lord, no! That was always in the cards, as soon as I knew it was a possibility. I cannot wait to be out there in the field, to learn this incredibly difficult work that actually matters– Not that what we're doing here on civilians doesn't matter,” she corrects quickly, eyes widening at her own poor phrasing. “I only meant… In terms of… that–”

“That although it's not all you'll be doing, operating on badly injured soldiers in a war zone thousands of kilometres away does sound a little more challenging than Keller's elective list, or stitching up plastic polymers when there's no more light trauma and runny noses waiting down in the ER,” Serena says around a chuckle, helping her out when it's obvious she's too flustered to think of a proper way to explain herself.

“Yes, exactly,” she replies, relieved and calm again, “thank you for understanding.”

There is so much weight behind these simple words, and it is so clear that not many people ever _did_ understand before in the way she looks at her now. But Serena can't get lost in those honest and thankful eyes right now, because if she does she'll choke on the piece of meat she's trying to swallow, and she can't think of a less ridiculous explanation to come up with when Berenice inevitably has to Heimlich it out of her.

“By the way, I meant to thank you earlier before you ran away,” she says when she's done struggling with her bite and thoughts. “Letting me practise while you dealt with everything down here was a really nice gesture.”

Berenice smirks then, but it looks less assured and cocky than it has all day.

“Not the portrait Griffin painted of me, I reckon?”

“No,” Serena admits, knowing there is no use in lying here. “But I've seen his anatomy sketches and between you and me, Berenice, that man can't draw for shit.”

She laughs at that, briefly, and blushes before she speaks again.

“You can call me Bernie, you know. If you want to… You should call me Bernie.”

There's a much more definite tone by the end of her sentence, and Serena feels herself smile much too softly at the adorable –she doesn't find that word inappropriate any longer– way this woman's surprising softness keeps showing through the crack of her strict, emotionless front, when one takes the time to bother to look for it.

“Serena is fine as well.”

“And I should thank you too, for this morning, and for the entire day really. You were a great partner through this.”

Serena rolls her eyes to distract herself from the sudden giddiness brought on by the unexpected compliment, and goes for safe banter instead of over thinking her colleague's choice of wording.

“Stop talking like our shift is over! I don't want to pay for your arrogance tonight.”

“Oh my God, the jinx thing again. Really, it amazes me how you can truly believe–“

There's a knock on the door before she can finish her sentence, and Nurse Fletcher's head pops into the room.

“Dr Wolfe, Dr McKinnie? Sorry to disturb you on your break, but we've got a bit of a situation here.”

Serena gives Bernie a quick glare.

“What's wrong, Fletch?”

“We've got two drunk patients who just fought and although security broke it off quickly, it looks like at least one of them will need stitches. The EMT called, they're on their way with a patient in respiratory distress we'll need to take care of down here until ICU frees up a bed. And Keller contacted us as well, they need one of you up there for a death certificate, family's on the way.”

Serena sighs and nods, and Fletch leaves with an apologetic smile on his face.

“I hate you, _Bernie_,” Serena grumbles as she stands up, mockingly emphasising the appellation.

“I'll concede that was poor timing, but I guarantee we can handle this and be back here to finish eating in no time! Come on. I have faith in you, Serena,” she ends with a wink, before she turns around and starts tying her hair up on her way out.

It takes Serena way too long to move after that.

She doesn't know if she's more shaken by that last statement, that she definitely wouldn't have expected twelve hours ago, or by the fact that she's never liked the sound of her first name more than now she's heard it from Bernie's mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously took some liberties with both of our girls' backstories', I know Bernie's might feel a little tired and overused in lgbt media but I think it fits with this version of her, and I hope no one minded too much. 
> 
> Sorry this took so much longer than all previous chapters! Real life is kicking my butt those days.


	6. Chapter 6

**02:00**

It is that late in the night when they get to see each other for longer than seconds in passing between patients, and Serena sits down next to Bernie in the medical office to take a break with a sigh of relief. Although this is where they work, she doesn't have the energy to walk to the break room right about now –besides, it's way too late to consider finishing her interrupted dinner from earlier. At least the screens are all clear of red flags and blinking alerts under patients' names, as they've efficiently emptied the department for now.

“Believe in jinx yet?” Serena asks smugly when even the unbreakable Dr Wolfe lets a yawn escape.

Her colleague groans aloud and puts her head in her hands.

“I've had to put my finger into two rectums and almost got puked on three times in the last couple of hours alone, Serena, not to mention my back is giving me hell,” comes her muffled voice. “Don't you think I'm being punished enough?”

"That bad?" she asks immediately. 

"Oh, I'll live," Bernie shrugs, hissing in pain as she moves.

Serena hums and allows herself, in her exhausted state, the luxury of staring openly while Bernie can't see it. Her eyes are drawn to the muscled and strong back she's been quietly checking out all day and she can't help but think that it's very pleasant to look at, as painful as it may be.

An idea forms in her mind then, and she mulls it over for a minute. It's a bit odd, and it would probably seem that way to anyone passing by right now. But first of all, it's not like there's a crowd around the tiny medical office at this hour, and secondly, no one would ever suspect Serena's motivations behind it, when she's having so much trouble understanding them herself.

Her legs make her stand almost of their own accord when she's not even sure that she's made up her mind and she doesn't move for a while, half afraid, half hoping that the occasion will go before she actually gets on with it. But even hearing her get up doesn't shake Bernie out of her position, and Serena would think she was asleep if she couldn't see the grimace on the lower half of her face.

She sighs, more upset than annoyed that her colleague feels she has to hide just how much pain she's in right now, and reaches a decision.

“Did you at least diagnose something interesting in any of them?” she asks once she's standing right behind the other chair, more softly than this question's probably ever been asked.

It's not that she cares so much about the answer, but she is aware that she might spook Bernie out by touching her when she doesn't seem to have noticed she's moved –and although she's not a part of the army yet, she doesn't want to test the defence reflexes of someone who is notoriously physically strong.

Bernie's head comes up and turns around almost comically to give her a confused look, but Serena only mimics a massage with her hands as a way of explanation. It's only then that it strikes her just how bad an idea this may be, just how uncomfortable the offer could make her feel.

But Bernie isn't frowning anymore and her eyes carry a look, not unlike that of Jasmine that night Serena almost kissed her at that insane party in Stepney, a surprised and excited look, a silent hopeful question blending in with a hint of shame and fear.

“You don't have to do that,” she objects, almost too low for Serena's ear to catch it.

It would sound a lot more convincing if she'd said it louder, and if she didn't wince and roll her shoulders at the discomfort in her neck from the awkward position. Both of which she seems to realise as well, when Serena's raised eyebrows are enough to get a resigned sigh out of her.

“I know I don't _have_ to,” Serena replies when her stubborn coF1 turns around, “but I don't mind. I really don't.”

She wonders a second too late if that didn't sound a little too eager, the nerves of knowing she is about to get her hands on Bernie's body almost taking over, but the back and neck she can't stop staring at don't move at all, and Bernie doesn't show any sign of being creeped out.

“So, any fancy diagnoses?” she asks again, thinking it'll be easier to listen that to have to speak through this. “I've been stitching up superficial wounds for hours, give me something good.”

Bernie chuckles right when Serena's hands lend on her shaking shoulders, and she doesn't know which one of them tenses up more at the sudden contact. She reminds herself that Bernie probably isn't used to physical attention from her non existent friends, not to mention she might have hit a painful spot in her hurry, and so she takes a deep breath –not the best idea when standing so close to someone she's definitely attracted to– and tries to focus.

“Of course not,” Bernie finally replies after a beat, unconsciously leaning backwards and sighing when Serena testily rubs over her scapula. “You know if I'd come across anything remotely surgical, I would have shared that information with you.”

“Oh, would you have now?” Serena can't resist teasing.

She catches Bernie smiling sweetly in the screen of the sleeping computer in front of them as she closes her eyes and relaxes more under her hands, and Serena takes a minute to admire just how beautiful she looks that way -especially since she guesses not many people have ever seen it.

The comfortable silence stretches as she tries harder than she can remember to do a proper job, and slowly the knots in Bernie's muscles start to give out as she lets out a few deep sighs. Serena dares to move up so that she eventually reaches her long, uncovered, naked neck, with messy golden hair levitating millimetres above her fingertips, just out of reach.

“Well, we're team mates, right? And team mates should communicate,” Bernie replies of the blue, her voice sounding almost sleepy. “See, I'll have learned a thing or two from you today.”

Serena isn'st sure what makes her hands waver then, either the unexpected praise or the direct skin-on-skin contact, and she has to start naming muscles and nerves in her head as she goes so she can control her movements again. Making it clinical also helps her pretend she doesn't notice the warm softness of Bernie's skin, unbelievably so after so many consecutive hours of working under the used and rough material of borrowed scrubs, or the hair on her own forearms standing up every time short blonde strands brush them unexpectedly.

“Although,” she picks up, “all we would have gotten to do here would have been staring at the CT together in frustration while someone else operated. Good Lord, what I wouldn't give to perform even the easiest appendectomy right about now.”

Serena laughs, and Bernie opens one of her eyes to question her wordlessly through the mirroring screen.

“All you did was say the word 'appendectomy', and I swear your trapezes and pretty much everything else back here relaxed immediately.”

“Oh. Well, I do live up to the_ operating theatre nut_ rumour," she says, but it doesn't sound as bitter as Serena would have expected.

“You don't say. It's like I'm not even useful, the only thing you had to do to unwind all along was picture yourself getting your hands dirty.”

Bernie's head straightens up so she can fully stare at their reflection in the screen, eyes almost as wide as they were during the flirting incident earlier, and Serena takes notice of the double meaning of her own words.

Before she gets a chance to try and diffuse the renewed tension by pretending it was an intentional joke, the computer does it for her as it lights up, a loud ping signalling a new admission getting registered into the system.

Serena withdraws her hands then, regretful but aware that the moment has passed, and reads over Bernie's shoulder as she points to the screen with a deep sigh. And sure enough, it's a sixty-plus years old man with dysuria.

“I'll take this one,” Serena offers with a chuckle, “if you go and get us some of that horrible machine coffee so we can at least _look_ better than the sickly patients we're examining.”

Bernie huffs, but she stands up all the same and turns to Serena.

“Deal. And thank you,” she says with a sincere smile, “it's always harder to focus when I'm in pain. I'm grateful that distraction is gone.”

_Speak for yourself_, Serena thinks half bitterly, knowing the tingling in her fingertips and the very detailed thoughts she's having now probably won't leave her alone for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, my apologies this took so long! The insanity of this particular December is thankfully almost over, and so is this fic -I'm confident the next and last chapter will be up before 2020.
> 
> Happy holidays if you celebrate one these days !


	7. Chapter 7

**08:00**

Serena wakes with a start, feeling disoriented for a moment before she recognises the ugly curtains of the on call room. She frowns at the rays of light coming through the window, wondering how it's possible that the fall sun is already up when she's supposed to be relaying Bernie before daytime –they agreed to split the remnants of their night around four, when the nocturnal flow of patients finally slowed to an almost stop.

She scrubs tiredly at her eyes, picks up her phone, and lets out a surprised yelp when she sees the time and notices she doesn't have any missed calls or messages.

She puts in Bernie's number, hurrying up and putting her scrubs back on as it rings. She ends up getting voice mail, and although it's irrational because nothing serious could have possibly happened to her in here without any other member of staff calling the other F1, she feels somehow worried that she isn't picking up.

When she gets back to the Emergency Room barely five minutes later, panting from running across the first floor, she almost collides into Bernie, who's just closing an exam room's door.

“Well hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” she greets her with a tired face but a happy grin. “Did you have a good night's sleep?”

Serena doesn't even wonder how she still looks so good with darkening circles under her eyes for more than a second, resolved to evidently not being able to dislike any physical flaws on this specific coworker.

She does frown at the nickname, especially when Bernie's glance lingers a bit too long down her neck, but gets out of her own head and clears her throat to get deep browns to stare up at hers again.

“I did actually, but who's fault is that? You were supposed to wake me around six so I could take over. But I guess you had to let me sleep while you pulled an all nighter like the big macho army medic you already are?”

And if she's afraid for a second that their bond is still too fragile for her joke to be well-received considering their rocky start and their tension charged moments throughout this shift, an apology all ready on her tongue, the feeling vanishes at the chuckle Bernie lets out, shaking her head and temporarily hypnotizing Serena with the movement of her –somehow even messier than it was earlier– mane.

“I wish I was that devoted, but I'm afraid the truth is much more mundane and pathetic than you imagine,” she playfully answers as she walks to the medical station, Serena following behind.

“What happened?”

Bernie looks at her feet for a moment, the tiniest hint of pink colouring her cheeks and nose. Serena rolls her eyes, unimpressed by whatever shame she may be feeling.

“All right, you're never going to let me live this one down, but… I fell asleep at the desk. Repeatedly. We only had four patients between four and six thirty and I dozed off in between, so… I technically haven't been awake for much longer than you have. There.”

“My, my, my, Major Wolfe, that _is_ embarrassing!” Serena says with a smirk, and an involuntarily wink.

She notes in passing that using army titles for fun might not be the greatest idea, especially not when her still half-asleep mind starts conjuring up pictures of Bernie in a uniform.

“Yeah, well, you know what's more embarrassing?” Bernie asks lowly as she leans in, the huskiness of her voice coupled with the sudden closeness of her body sending more shivers down Serena's back than her own thoughts had already triggered.

“Wh- What's that?” she asks, cringing at her hesitation.

Bernie seems to only realise then that she's being a little too intense. She blushes more fully as it sinks in, then takes a step back so quickly Serena has to stop her hands from reaching out and keeping her close.

“You, er… You've got sheet marks all over your neck and cheek,” she finally explains, eyes looking anywhere but at where she was staring earlier. “So… well, yes. Good luck on looking professional and inspiring trust in the renewed wave of patients on this fine morning!”

Serena groans in pain at the thought, which gains her a sympathetic smile from her colleague. Who then shoves a file into her hands and turns to the computer to type up her observations, obviously not yet over her most recent fit of embarrassment.

Serena only sees two patients and is sending them home by the time the regular ER team shows up to take it from there, and although this shift didn't go nearly as bad as she's initially feared, she does feel relieved that it's finally over.

She doesn't cross paths with Bernie again and guesses that she's still busy overworking herself, so she goes to change alone in the locker room. She's actually thankful for that, because she doesn't know where her mind would have drifted if they'd had to change in the same room after everything that transpired yesterday –and she even opts out of a shower on site for the same reason.

She waves hello at a few other doctors and F1 and F2 on their way in as she takes the elevator to the cafeteria, in dire need of a caffeine shot if she's to make it to her place in one piece, already dreading the morning queue she'll have to wait through. Only when she does get there, she's met with the comforting sight of Ric and Henrik already sitting at a table, the former holding out a steaming cup to her as soon as she enters the room.

“I know this isn't what you meant when you said I owe you an infinite amount of drinks, but I figure you'll appreciate it all the same,” he says with a guilty smile and, she's proud to say, a little bit of fear underneath.

She can't help but grin, thinking this truly is the perfect end to a definitely better than predicted shift, and eagerly takes the coffee from him.

“So… how bad did it go with Dr Ego?” Griffin asks then, a curious look on his face.

It takes her tired brain a little too long to realise he probably wonders how she's in such a good mood after living what he considers his own personal nightmare.

“Ric,” Henrik intervenes in the deep, authoritarian tone Serena's come to refer to as the Dad Voice, “don't call her that.”

“What? Come on, Henrik, you've worked with her, you know what she's like. Tried to teach _you_ stuff when you're an F2, for God's sake.”

Henrik only frowns and groans in reluctant agreement, remembering the moment his friend is referring to and knowing he can't argue with his own anecdote. Serena looks from one of them to the other for a minute, and finally decides that she can't just sit here and not defend Bernie, not after the last twenty-four hours.

“Look, I'll admit she has a bit of a pedantic side, and she doesn't lack confidence,” she starts, fiddling with her necklace in nervousness of saying too much, “but it's nothing I haven't seen in male doctors before and it usually doesn't get _them_ alienated. On the contrary.”

She gives Ric a pointed look, and after a beat, he sighs and concedes.

“Alright, fair point. I still don't like her,” he grumbles.

“That's only because you're insanely competitive,” Serena points out, satisfied she's made her case without revealing things she's still not sure she understands herself.

The incredulous look on both her friends' faces does make her doubt herself for a second, before Ric explains their reaction.

“_You're_ calling me competitive?”

“I do have to side with Eric on this one,” Henrik calmly states, and there's that tiny knowing smile tugging at the corner his mouth when Serena shoots daggers at him and his lack of support.

“He does, but although I'm as competitive, yes, _just_ _as_ competitive as Ric,” she insists at the shared amused glance between her friends, “I, unlike him, also happen to be as brilliant a doctor as B... Dr Wolfe is.”

“Oh it's on, McKin-”

But Ric stops midway through his threat, eyes widening, right before Serena feels a hand lightly taping her shoulder.

She turns to find herself facing the very browns she hasn't stop thinking of since she last saw them, and she hopes with all of her heart that Bernie didn't overhear their earlier conversation.

“Serena- Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.”

Serena thinks it must be the first time in her life she sees Bernie wearing a civilian's outfit, since she's so often first to arrive and last to leave on any other day, and her long pale pink coat fairs so well with the gold of her hair and the hint of red on her cheeks –from noticing Serena's friends too late, she assumes– that she actually _feels_ herself staring for too long.

“No, no, it's fine!” she exclaims a little too loud when she finds her voice again, and catches an intrigued look between her friends somewhere in her peripheral vision. “What can I do for you?”

“You er, left your stethoscope out in the changing room," Bernie mumbles, handing it over and looking at her feet. "Here.”

“Oh, thank you,” Serena says much less enthusiastically as she takes it, a bit disappointed that this is the only reason she came up to her. “Hey, wouldn't that have been as awkward as bed sheets marks, showing up to work without it?” she tries, thinking a joke might relax Bernie enough that the conversation doesn't have to end there.

Bernie does chuckle and smile as she's reminded of earlier, but she soon breaks eye contact with her to warily glance at her company, and clears her throat.

“I'm sorry, I should get going. Have a nice day off, Serena. Hansson… Griffin,” she adds after a beat, before she gets into the queue to get her own drink.

“Sure, well... Goodbye then,” Serena replies, probably too late for Bernie to hear, and the frustration in her voice must be obvious to anyone who's had a decent night of sleep because Ric and Henrik both look at her funnily once more. “What?”

Ric only stares, as if seeing her for the first time.

“Dr Wolfe?” Henrik calls out instead of answering.

Bernie turns around, visibly just as surprised by the interjection as Serena is.

“Do you have any plans for New Year's Eve?”

There are quite a few other young doctors around them in the room, and the shock is evident on everyone's face at the invitation.

“Seeing as we're early into October… No?” Bernie answers, clearly lost at to the point here –and getting even redder in the face than she already was, to Serena's enjoyment.

“We usually celebrate it at my place with a few friends, including these two. Would you consider joining us?”

Serena sees the way Bernie's frown intensifies for a second, and she knows she's wondering if this isn't some kind of a trap –and were it coming from Ric, Serena might have questioned it too. As it is, such an offer from Hanssen can only be genuine, and so she smiles encouragingly, hoping it might help convince her.

“I'll think about it,” she finally answers, eyes boring into Serena's.

Serena feels something growing in her chest under her stare and that promise, and she prays that she's not blushing herself right now.

“Thank you,” Bernie then says to Henrik, and turns around once more.

“Great idea, really. Brilliant,” Griffin whines half-jokingly under his breath.

Henrik shakes his head disapprovingly, and Serena gives Ric a light kick in the shin for good measure.

“What? Come on, mates: how the hell am I supposed to be friends with that woman?”

She rolls her eyes at his legendary stubborness.

Although, for entirely different reasons, she can't help but wonder the exact same thing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially intended to post this as a one shot, but I kept having more ideas, and for once it felt more fun than stressful to write as I posted (in great part due to all of the encouraging comments this got along the way!)
> 
> So thank you for every single kudo or comment left on here, every notification made my day.
> 
> See you soon for other fics, I hope! And long live Berena, whatever age we may write them as ;)


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